


TRANS-figuration

by badskippy



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Trans, Trans Character, Transgender, coming out trans, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/pseuds/badskippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What we are on the outside, isn't necessarily who we are on the inside.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins has walked that line and kept it secret from all but his best friend ... even from the one he loves most in the world.  But a chance encounter with a nasty relative will bring his delicate house of cards down and he will be started on a journey to discover who he really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [Neeka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/gifts).



> there are many things that may not make sense in the beginning or that people will not understand why i am doing it ... but i beg you all ... stay with me and i think you will like our destination.

* * *

 

 

            Bilbo rapped his fingers on the kitchen table, lost in thought; it was suppose to be relaxing, a nervous habit to rid him of the anxiety filling him. But his fingers beat in time with his wildly beating heart.

            “You don’t have to do this,” Ori said, sounding scared.

            “I don’t have a choice,” Bilbo said. It was so true.

            “You do,” Ori insisted. “You just … tell Thorin that Otho is lying … that he’s making the whole thing up! I’ll swear to it as well!”

            Bilbo shook his head. “I can’t tell Thorin the truth is a lie, when I’ve been lying to him all this time.”

            “You haven’t lied!”

            “I’ve concealed … basically lying through omission.”

            Ori wrung his hands. “But you love Thorin!”

            Bilbo nodded.   “More than I can ever say in words.”

            “Then why risk it?!”

            “Because in the end, I knew this day would come.” It was true. From the minute he had met Thorin eight years ago, Bilbo knew that what they had was more than a passing thing and that his secret would have to come out. “It was always just a matter of time.”

            They both flinched as the mantel clock chimed. It was a lovely soft sound, but in the thick gloom of fear, it sounded like a death knell.

            “Five o’clock,” Bilbo said, resigned; Thorin would be home any time.

            Ori grew a little more agitated. “I beg you, Bilbo.   Please don’t do it.”

            Bilbo only smiled. He wondered if this was how the protestant martyrs felt when they knew their time had come to be walked to the stake. “Go home, Ori.”

            Ori was clearly reluctant to go. “I don’t want to leave you.”

            “Go home,” Bilbo said gently. “I’ll survive.”

            Ori seemed unconvinced. “What … what should I say—”

            “That’s easy.” Bilbo knew as much as he had to be honest, he still needed to protect Ori, because no one would believe that Ori hadn’t known before now. “Anyone that asks you, say … it wasn’t your secret to tell.”

            Ori didn’t seem to like that. “No one is going to believe—”

            “Say it.”

            Ori licked his lips; nervous.

            “Say it, Ori.”

            Ori sighed. “It … it wasn’t my … my secret to tell.”

            Bilbo smiled. “Say it again.”

            Ori drew a calming breath. “It wasn’t my … secret to tell.”

            Bilbo nodded. “Once more.”

            Ori drew a deep breath. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

            Bilbo was happy. “That sounds a little more natural.”

            Ori looked doubtful but nodded.

            “Keep saying it on the ride home,” Bilbo stood as did Ori and the two friends walked to the front door. “Say it until it comes easily to you.”

            “You mean about a million times, then,” Ori said, dryly.

            “However many times it takes.”

            Bilbo opened the door, but Ori didn’t leave. They stood there staring at each other, so much worry and fear in Ori’s eyes and that hurt Bilbo as much as Thorin’s suspected reaction hurt him. Ori suddenly pulled Bilbo into a tight hug and Bilbo held on to his friend just as tightly, each pouring as much love and strength into the other as they could.

            “If you need me,” Ori said as they separated. “Call me … or text me … or … just come over … just … don’t be alone if the worst happens.”

            Bilbo smiled. “I’ll talk to you later.”           

            Ori nodded and left, Bilbo closed the door and returned to the kitchen table. Had he known what today was going to bring, he would never have left the house. _Hell, probably would have just stayed in bed all day_ , he thought to himself.

            Bilbo got out the casserole he had prepared for dinner that morning and popped it into the oven. Might as well eat, he thought. His and Thorin's relationship had started over food, it might as well end that way too. He set the table and opened a bottle of red wine so it could breathe, as Thorin would say.

            After everything was in place, Bilbo then went and cleaned up himself.   Clean shirt, nicer cardigan, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Looking at himself in the mirror, he knew he looked as he always did but tonight he _felt_  different.

            Correction, he was finally going to be himself; that was what was different.

            He was just coming down the stairs when the door opened and in walked his whole world.

            “Hey, babycakes,” Thorin said with a cheeky smile. Before Bilbo could reply, Thorin swooped down, giving Bilbo a stubbly kiss; the man had five o’clock shadow at twelve noon. “How was your day?” Thorin asked as he stepped back and hung up his jacket, toeing off his shoes.

            “Uhm … okay,” Bilbo said, then cleared his throat. “Thorin, there’s something—”

            “What’s for dinner?” Thorin asked, sniffing the air.

            “Just … chicken and broccoli casserole,” Bilbo answered.

            Thorin smiled. “Your mom’s recipe?”

            Bilbo nodded.

            “Fucking awesome!” It was Thorin’s favorite and one of the first meals that Belladonna Baggins had made when Thorin was newly in Bilbo’s life.

            “Thorin—”

            However, Thorin had turned, walking towards the kitchen, inquiring over his shoulder, “Is there something to drink?”

            “I … I have a bottle of wine open.” Bilbo hurried after his partner.

            “Perfect,” Thorin said as he moved to pour himself a glass. “Want one?” He held up an empty glass.

            “Uhm … yes,” Bilbo sighed. “Thorin there is something we need to talk about.”

            Thorin poured the glasses, handing one to Bilbo and taking a healthy swig from his own, and then refilling it. “This is good.” Thorin picked up the bottle and looked over the label.

            “Thorin,” Bilbo was getting edgy, even after taking a drink of wine.

            “What?” Thorin looked up.

            “We need to talk.”

            Thorin shrugged. “Okay.”

            “It’s serious.”

            “All right,” Thorin leaned back against the counter. “What’s going on?”

            “Well …” Bilbo took another drink. Now that it had come to it, the words were sticking in his throat, which he cleared again. “I went out with Ori today.”

            Thorin nodded, taking another sip.

            “And we … we went shopping.”

            Thorin nodded again. “Did you have fun?”

            “Well … yes.   And … no.”

            “No?” Thorin looked confused. “Since when did you two _not_ have fun shopping?!” Thorin laughed at his own joke but quieted when Bilbo didn’t laugh or even acknowledge it. “What happened?”

            Bilbo drew a breath; it didn’t really help calm him. “Something un … unpleasant.”

            “ _Unpleasant? You and Ori?_ ” Thorin seemed truly perplexed. “That’s hard to imagine. Did you fight or something?”

            Bilbo shook his head, taking yet another drink of wine; hoping he could get out his confession before he got tipsy.

            At that moment the shrill ring of Thorin’s iPhone sounded. Bilbo shot a startled look, as Thorin pulled it out of his back pocket.

            Bilbo stood frozen, thinking, _Surely Otho couldn’t have gotten Thorin’s mobile number? And he couldn’t possibly call him on it … would he?_

            Thorin looked at the phone and frowned. He held it up to show Bilbo that while it wasn’t a number he had in his phone, they both knew it; it was the Sackville-Baggins.

            “Thorin, wai—”

            “Hello?” Thorin answered, putting the phone on speaker for Bilbo to hear.

            Bilbo’s felt ill when he heard his cousin’s voice from the phone. “Thorin. Just the man I wanted to talk to.”

            Thorin sighed. “Otho. To what do I owe _the pleasure_?”

            “There is something you have the right to know.”

            “And what’s that?” Thorin asked dryly.

            “Bilbo’s been lying and cheating behind your back.”

            Thorin gave an unreadable, hard look to Bilbo, who squirmed under the glare. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Thorin ground out.

            “I happen to be out and about today,” Otho sounded almost triumphant. “And ran into Bilbo.”

           

\-----ooooo-----

****

**_Earlier In The Day_ **

****

            “What do you think of these?” Ori asked.

            Bilbo tilted his head as if thinking, but he already knew how he felt. “I’m not fond of ‘flesh tone’ or ‘nude.’ No point in buying expensive nickers if they were just going to blend in with the background!”

            Ori laughed at that. “Let me guess, red, green, yellow, white or black.”

            Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Try ‘wine’, ‘sage’ and … well, not just … _yellow_ … not lemon yellow anyway … but more ...”

            “I know.” Ori went back to looking while Bilbo did the same. “More like … gold?”

            “Please! I’m not Lobelia,” Bilbo snarked, which got Ori laughing again. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘butter’ or even , ‘sand.’”

            They had come to Bilbo’s favorite shop, _Lady Mary’s_ , run by two elderly cousins, Isobel Abbot and Violet Gladwell, whose mothers had open the shop just after World War One. Located in Old Ford, of all places, it was simply the best shop in all of London; expensive, but it still had the widest selection and some of the finest quality lingerie in the city. And the elderly ladies never blinked an eye at even their most _eccentric_ customers.

            “What about this?” Ori asked, holding up a pale, Robin’s Egg blue pair of panties with delicate lace.

            “That’s pretty.” Bilbo didn’t normally go for blue but the pastel color was too beautiful to ignore.

            “There is a matching camisole, too.” Ori held up what look like a vintage twenty’s style camisole, although it was clearly brand new.

            “That’s nice too!” Bilbo was always glad when a top and bottom were equally nice; it didn’t always happen.

            Bilbo like the blue ones, but he’d already picked out a few others and wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the money. Oh, but he wanted to!

            “What about pink?” Ori asked.

            Bilbo shrugged. A rose color might be nice, but not bubblegum. “Depends on the shade.”

            “I’d think pink was perfect for _perverts_.”

            Both Bilbo and Ori spun around, only to come face to face with Bilbo’s worst, no correction, second worst nemesis.

            “What do you want, Otho _Sackville-Baggins_?” Ori spat out Otho’s name like it was a curse word.

            “Save your indignant attitude, Ori _Ryson_ ,” Otho sneered. “I’m not the one in the wrong here.”

            Bilbo felt the warmth of embarrassment right up to his ears; they were beat red at this point, he was sure. Suddenly all the selections in his hand felt odd, as if he were holding them up above his head rather than discreetly at his side.

            “I guess all the rumors are true,” Otho smirked, as he looked Bilbo up and down in disdain. “Almost sickening to have it confirmed right in front of me.”

            “There is nothing wrong with buying for others,” Ori countered.

            “That’s true,” Otho said. “But Bilbo isn’t buying for another. He’s buying for himself and you’re helping him.”

            “Prove it!” Ori scoffed. “You’ve nothing on him!”

            “Don’t I?” Otho smugged. “Who is he buying these for then? His mother, who’s long dead? His sister-in-law? Maybe an Aunt, then?” Otho laughed. “No. No one buys these kinds of things except for a wife or themselves. And since I’m sure Bilbo plays ‘the wife’ at home, I’m guessing it’s a bit of both.”

            “Fuck you,” Ori hissed.

            By this time, everyone in the store had stopped and were watching the ugly scene playing out before them.

            “Lobelia has told me she suspected it for years,” Otho jeered. “I guess seeing is believing.”

            Bilbo started shaking, he couldn’t help it. He felt like he had lost all control of his body, his legs were like rubber and he wondered if he would fall. He felt like he would be sick any second. He didn’t even have the strength to look away from Ortho’s contemptuous glare.

            “I have wonder,” Otho said lowly, dangerously, “what Thorin will say when he finds out.”

            Bilbo found his voice. “Don’t you dare—”

            “Dare what?” Otho asked. “What shouldn’t I dare?”

            Bilbo knew Otho most certainly would dare.

            “Of course,” Otho said sardonically. “You could just continue to lie to Thorin’s face. You’re good at that, aren’t you, Bilbo?”

            “Thorin will never believe you!” Ori stated emphatically. “Never!”

            Otho smiled without a hint of humor. “Should we find out?”

            Bilbo dropped everything in his hands. He had to steady himself against the display or he would fall over; his head was starting to spin.

            “I think that’ll be enough,” Isobel said as she came over. “I won’t have you harassing my customers!”

            Otho did laugh at that. “Customers! Freaks more like.” He gave Bilbo another disdainful lookover. “Just as well,” Otho said, turning back to the elderly lady. “I wouldn’t buy from any shop that caters to the likes of him.”

            “Don’t think that such a threat,” Violet said, coming over to help her cousin. “You’re the one that’s unwanted here!” A few of the other customers echoed the sentiment but Otho didn’t seem the least bit ticked off.

            Isobel reached down and picked up the items Bilbo had dropped and handed them back to him. He nodded his thanks, not trusting his voice at that moment. Ori was next to him now and had a comforting arm around Bilbo’s shoulder, while Violet urged everyone to go back to their shopping.

            “Hey, Bilbo.” Bilbo turned around at the sound of Otho’s voice and was greeted to the flash of his cousin’s phone. Otho smirked. “Nothing like photographic evidence.”

            “Get out!” Isobel demanded, but Otho was already walking through the door.

            “It’ll be all right, Bilbo,” Ori said quietly.

            Bilbo felt his heart pounding in his chest, rising with his panic. _It wouldn’t be all right. Not this time._

 

\-----ooooo-----

 

            Thorin, his brow creased and his mouth a thin line, stood silent, taking slow deep breathes.

            “Are you still there?” Otho asked, amused.

            “Why are you telling me this?” Thorin said, his voice measured and hard.

            “Because you need to know the truth.”

            “And what truth is that?”

            Otho huffed out a laugh. “That your partner’s a fucking sicko who wears ladies nickers!”

            Thorin’s face was a mask of barely controlled anger. He looked at Bilbo who had begun to tremble; it was worst than when Otho had first discovered him in Lady Mary’s.

            “Why should I believe you?” Thorin asked calmly.

            “You sound like Ori,” Otho said, the smugness obvious in his voice. There was a long pause before Thorin’s phone chimed; a new text message. “See for yourself.”

            Thorin clicked over to the text that Otho had apparently sent, his scowl deepening as he looked at the text, then held the phone out for Bilbo to see; it was the photo of Bilbo that Otho had taken at the shop earlier.

            Bilbo looked at it, but only for a moment before he looked at Thorin. All the air in the room seemed to have evaporated and Bilbo felt he couldn’t breath as Thorin’s slow-boiling anger turned his handsome face red.

            “So,” Thorin said. “You called to tell me the truth.”

            “Indeed,” Otho said, trying to for concerned. “It’s not right that you should be saddled with some pervert.”

            Thorin slowly nodded. “You know what else isn’t right?” Thorin asked, his fury about to boil over. When no response came from Otho, Thorin pushed on, snarling out, “That he should have a piece of shit like you for a cousin.”

            Bilbo was shocked; that isn’t what he expected really.

            “Oi!” Otho spat. “I’m only trying to be helpful and give you—”

            “The fuck you were!” Thorin snapped. “You didn’t call to help, or tell me _‘the truth.’_ You called for no other _fucking_ reason but to cause trouble and be the _fucking dick_ you are!”

            “Hey, I’m trying to save you from a life of misery!”

            “You’d know more about misery than anyone else. I’ve met your wife.”

            “Sod you!”

            “And you’d better keep your fucking filthy mouth shut, because if I find out you’re spreading this around, I’ll pound your fucking arse!”

            “You even think of touching me, I’ll—”

            “You’ll what?!”

            “I’ll have you charged with battery!”

            “That’ll be hard from your _FUCKING HOSPITAL BED_!” Thorin screamed out a few more choice expletives, throwing his phone across the room where it broke on the tiled floor  “FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!” Enraged, he clenched and unclenched his fists as if itching to punch something, or someone. “GOD DAMN … MOTHER FUCKING … ARSEHOLE! I SWEAR TO GOD!”

            Bilbo backed up into the corner of the counter. He’d seen Thorin angry before, Thorin had a rather notorious temper if he was honest, but Bilbo had never seen him this angry, this furious, truly incensed, in his life. It scared him more than he wanted to admit. Thorin continued to pace the kitchen like a caged predator until he seized a large bowl off the counter and threw across the room where is shattered, the pieces falling atop Thorin’s broken iPhone.

            Bilbo stood trembling, waiting for Thorin’s next move. However, when Thorin turned, red-faced and seething, he took one look at Bilbo, frightened and near cowering at the far side of the kitchen and he deflated; all the fight seemed to go out of Thorin.

            “I’m … I’m sorry,” Thorin said, taking a tentative step towards Bilbo.

            Bilbo only stayed still, wide-eyed.

            “I know, I …” Thorin stammered. “I shouldn’t let my anger get the better of me, but … god-dammit.”

            Bilbo couldn’t stop shaking.

            “Bilbo,” Thorin took a few more steps towards Bilbo. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

            Bilbo drew a breath and swallowed but he couldn’t find the words.

            “Why did I have to hear it from that … that, piece of shit?”

            How did one confess their most hidden secret? With a deep breath and a quiver in his voice, Bilbo blurted out, “I was afraid!”

            Thorin looked like his heart was breaking. “Afraid? Of me?”

            Bilbo’s lip quivered, and he felt so small as he whispered, “Rejection.”

            Thorin reached out and gathered Bilbo to him, cradling him close. “Did you really think I’d reject you for _that_?”

            Bilbo only buried his face deep into Thorin’s chest and let his tears go.

            Thorin couldn’t help but cry as well. “Never, Bilbo … I love you … I do … I … love … you … and I mean _you_ , not what you wear.”

            Bilbo wrapped his arms tighter around Thorin and Thorin slowly rocked the two of them, letting Bilbo cry out his fears and letting his own tears wash away what little of his anger remained. But Thorin still had questions.

            “How long have you lived with this?” Thorin asked softly.

            Bilbo sniffled a bit, turning his face so as to lay his head against Thorin’s chest rather than buried in it. “Since I was a teen.”

            “Since we met?!” Thorin was clearly taken about.

            “Before that even. Since I was ten … maybe eleven.”

            Thorin took slow deep breaths. Bilbo couldn’t see his face but he knew Thorin’s calming technique.

            “Did you have _no one_ to share this with?” Thorin asked, sounding desperate.

            Bilbo smiled; of course Thorin would hate the idea of Bilbo suffering alone. “I had Ori. He knew.”

            “Of course,” Thorin huffed out a little laugh. “Thank God for Ori then.”

            “Yes. Thank God.”

            “But Ori never told?”

            Bilbo shook his head. “It … it wasn’t his secret to tell.”

            “No. And he’s far more compassion than fucking Otho.” Thorin growled a little on the last two words.

            “Please, Thorin,” Bilbo said, pushing back so he could look his partner in the face. “Don’t let him get to you.”

            “That’s asking a lot,” Thorin stated firmly. “People only ever rat out someone or two reasons. One, if that secret would cause true harm to someone or his or her loved one; that reason doesn’t apply here. Or two, to cause hurt with the telling. That’s Otho. He only ever wanted to hurt us, to cause us pain, to divide us if possible.”

            Bilbo nodded. Of course that is what Otho wanted.

            “But he failed,” Thorin said softly.

            Bilbo could have cried again if he wasn’t so very, very happy. Thorin gently cupped Bilbo’s face and planted kisses on Bilbo’s cheeks, the tip of Bilbo’s nose, Bilbo’s forehead and over his eyes before firmly kissing Bilbo’s mouth.

            And Bilbo returned that kiss with all the love and passion he received from Thorin.

            “I love you, Bilbo,” Thorin whispered against Bilbo’s lips. “I only ever want you to be happy.”

            Bilbo nodded. “That’s all I ever wanted for you as well.”

            Thorin smiled at that. “Then I want no more secrets? Okay?”

            Bilbo nodded again, a little worried.

            “And you know what else I want?”

            “What, my love?”

            Thorin’s smiled turned into a smirk. “Dinner … I’m starving!”

            Bilbo laughed. He laughed aloud and without reservation. It felt so good. _At least when I didn’t think about what had to come out now._ “Thorin,” Bilbo said, as the pulled apart. “You said you wanted no more secrets, right?”

            Thorin nodded, smiling.

            “Then it’s time you knew everything.”

 

 

TBC

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole truth ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is so much of myself in this chapter ... it's almost hard to read.

* * *

 

 

            “This is really good!” Thorin said, his mouth full of casserole.

            “Thank you, but,” Bilbo countered. “It’s not as good as Mum’s.”

            “Yes it is!” Thorin insisted. “You just make different choices.” That was true; Belladonna would brown the chicken on the cooktop, where Bilbo preferred to roast it in the oven. Also, Belladonna used only white meat, but Bilbo used both white and dark.  “So …” Thorin said, taking a drink of wine. “You said you wanted to tell me … _‘everything.’_ ”

            Bilbo nodded. He put his fork down and pushed his plate away; he was done anyway. “It’s just...”

            Thorin put his own utensils down and took one of Bilbo’s hands in his; Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand in return, thankful for the comfort.

            “I knew it’d eventually come out, but I never thought about actually saying it out loud.”

            “You know I love you.”

            “I’m not doubting that.”

            “But you’re still afraid.”

            Bilbo thought that over. “Apprehensive would be a better word.”

            “Amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it?” Thorin said. “You're reluctant to tell me because you’re unsure of my reaction.”

            Bilbo smiled; many thought Thorin clueless or emotionally simplistic. Neither of those was true; he could be very astute. But Thorin usually went on instinct, rather than emotion, and that gave rise to the idea that Thorin lacked depth. “This is the kind of confession that can end a relationship.”

            “Not ours.”

            “You can’t know that.”

            “I know I love you.”

            “Love can end, too.”

            Thorin took a breath and sighed. “You’re right; it can. But I believe love only grows deeper with the truth.”

            _And some call him emotionally constipated._ Bilbo took a breath and released it. “When I was young … about nine … I started having all these strange feelings inside me.” Bilbo took a sip of wine. “I felt odd … like … I was almost two people; one the world saw and one hidden … inside me.” Bilbo looked at Thorin, who nodded, but remained silent. “At the same time,” Bilbo continued, “I had this building attraction to other boys.”

            “At _nine_?” Thorin asked, sounding amazed.

            Bilbo nodded. “Didn’t you feel it then?”

            “Not that young,” Thorin said. “Closer to twelve or thirteen, if I had to put an age to it.”

            “That’s only three years.”

            “A big difference at that age, though.”

            Bilbo couldn’t argue with that. “Well, I remember being drawn to my best friend at the time,” Bilbo said.

            “Hamfast? Really?” Thorin said, a smile spreading across his face. Thorin had met Bilbo’s oldest friend and got on with Hamfast and his wife Bell as if they’d gown up together, rather than meeting in their late teens.

            “It was only a crush really,” Bilbo rushed out. “And it never went beyond that; we never did anything ... intimate … but I was very _enthralled_ with him.”

            “I could see that,” Thorin said. “I mean, even now you two have a great deal in common, so I can imagine that as children you two were very much alike as well.”

            “We were,” Bilbo confirmed. “And I used to dream about living with him when we got older and having a house together and being married.”

            Thorin chuckled at that, but it wasn’t unkind, only charmed.

            “However, even as a naïve nine-year old,” Bilbo added. “I was perfectly aware that boys only married girls, not other boys.”

            Again, Thorin nodded that he understood.

            “So my immature brain,” Bilbo said with a chuckle of his own, “took all those confusing thoughts and feelings and in it’s juvenile rationale, thought that … _clearly_ , a mistake had ben made along the way.”

            “What kind of mistake?” Thorin asked.

            “That someone didn’t get the message,” Bilbo replied. “Clearly, I should’ve been born a girl!”

            They both laughed at that; it was a typical, childish conclusion.

            “And as such,” Bilbo said, “I figured that if I prayed every night before bed … told God that somehow I’d gotten a penis by accident …” They laughed again. “… and I asked him very nicely … he’d correct the mistake and I’d wake up a girl and all my problems would be solved.”

            It was toughing, if more than a bit comical, how a child could view an adult situation.

            “How did that turn out for you?” Thorin teased.

            Bilbo gave Thorin a narrowed but amused glared. “You’ve been sleeping with me for the last eight years … I’d think you’d know yourself if it worked.”

            Thorin smiled. “Indeed I do.” He leaned over and gave Bilbo a kiss. “And I went through something similar … in a way.”

            “Did you?!” Bilbo was truly incredulous. “You never told me that! You’re family is so … accepting and _open_ about sexuality.” Thorin’s Mum, Fris, had a lesbian sister, Aunt Kris, and Thorin’s father, Thrain, had a few bisexual male cousins. Bilbo had met them all early in his and Thorin’s relationship; it was considered totally natural. “You and your family seemed so comfortable with your orientation.”

            “By the time I met you,” Thorin said. “I’d worked out my issues. But when I was younger … to be honest, you are only half right about my family. They are accepting but not necessarily open about it.” Bilbo looked confused so Thorin explained. “They never thought it an issue of importance, which is good in the abstract, except we never talked about it; why talk about something that isn’t an issue. Know what I mean?”

            Bilbo really thought that over. “That wouldn’t have dawned on me, but I understand it, in a way.”

            Thorin nodded. “As a pre-teen, I thought they didn’t talk about it because they didn’t want to hear it and _didn’t accept it_. Aunt Kris lived in America with her girl-friend, which we all knew, but whenever we kids asked about them, Mum would change the subject.”

            “I thought that was because she didn’t like, Andrea,” Bilbo pointed out. Kris’ girl friend was rather _‘rough-around-the-edges’_ as Fris would say.

            “It was,” Thorin pointed out, “But as a kid, I thought it was because Mum didn’t like gay people.”

            Bilbo nodded; he got it now.

            “Like you,” Thorin continued, “I figured I could change … if I simply ignored my feelings and acted straight, fucked girls, watched straight porn, talked trash and … well …” Thorin went quiet.

            “Well … what?” Bilbo hadn’t heard any of this; after all their years together, this was a total surprise.

            Thorin seemed very reluctant to speak.

            “You can tell me, sweetie.”

            Thorin drew a deep breath. “I didn’t hang out with a great group of mates … we were a bit … well …” Thorin licked his lips like someone with a bad taste in their mouths. “We would run around and … and gay-bash.”

            Bilbo might have been shocked, know how loving and tender Thorin was with him. But he could see the pain written on Thorin’s face and he knew what self-loathing looked like; he saw it every day when he looked in his own mirror. Bilbo reached out and it was his turn to take one of Thorin’s hands. “You were young and scared; scared of being someone you thought your family would scorn.”

            Thorin nodded but he still looked unhappy. “Doesn’t really excuse insulting, ridiculing and … assaulting someone in public though. Does it?”

            “Was anyone … I mean …” Bilbo didn’t really want to know the answer, but Thorin knew what he was asking.

            “I never killed anyone,” Thorin said quietly. “But I’m sure I destroyed their self-worth, their confidence. Their lives.”

            “It’s in the past, Thorin,” Bilbo said gently, giving Thorin’s hand a squeeze.

            “It took Dwalin to set me straight,” Thorin said then turned a cheeky smile to Bilbo. “No pun intended.”

            Bilbo couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m sure. He has always been very … forthright.”

            Thorin nodded. “He and Uncle Fundin had moved here just before my eighteenth.”

            “Really? You two are so close … I always thought you grew up together.”

            “Where do you think he got the Scottish accent from?”

            Bilbo shrugged. “He could have gone off to boarding school.”

            Thorin laughed at that. “Correctional school maybe.”

            Bilbo giggled.

            “No, he saw right through me when he moved here,” Thorin said. “He was rougher than I was but he always had a strong sense of truth and honor and he never lied. Of course, I denied everything; told him he was crazy and delusional and that I was straight.”

            “How did he get you to finally admit it?”

            “We got into a fight and he kicked my arse.”

            Bilbo gaped but Thorin just shrugged and smiled.

            “It was a good row, I can tell you,” Thorin confessed. “But he was bigger and stronger in the end and when I finally gave in, we both laying there, bloodied and bruised, he asked me how it felt to get knock about by a poof and told me that if I continued to be a fucking arse he’d continue to kick my clapped arse, but in front of my friends _.’_ ”

            “Oh my God. What happened, then?”

            Thorin looked sheepish. “I broke down in tears. I couldn’t deny it anymore and I was embarrassed.”

            “I’m sure,” Bilbo said. “But it must have been a weight off you.”

            Thorin nodded. “Eventually, but not at that moment. When I told my dad, he seemed almost angry … not because I was gay, but because I’d lied.”

            “And that sounds like your dad.”

            Thorin sighed. “What about you? Had did you … _get found out_?”

            Bilbo laughed. “My mum, actually.”

            Thorin smiled warmly. “Bella always was a smart cookie.”

            “I been praying every night for at least a year,” Bilbo said. “With no results—”

            “Of course.”

            “— _of course_ , so I figured I need to _‘up my game’_ so to speak. So, I started stopping at this church along my way home from school.”

            “Right to the source,” Thorin said with a smirk.

            Bilbo nodded, smiling at the joke. “Exactly. I figured if I cornered God in his house, he’d have to listen to me.” Thorin chuckled at that. “Naturally, it didn’t take long for Mum to realize that I was coming home every day from school late, so instead of confronting me, she started meeting me after school.”

            “What did you do, then?”

            “Well, I didn’t think I was in the wrong, I had no reason to hide, so as we walked back, I told her I had to go into the church and pray.”

            “I bet that got her attention.”

            “I’m sure, but she simply went with it.”

            “She was so cool.”     

            Bilbo agreed. “She patiently waited while I knelt there and afterwards, on the way home, she casually asked me what I was praying for. Again, I had no reason to be coy, and being only ten, I stated it very matter-of-factly.”

            “What did she say?”

            “You know how she was. She let me ramble on and on, taking in every word, and she finally told me that while it was very nice of me to ask politely, she had to tell me the truth that God didn’t make mistakes and that while most boys liked girls, sometimes God made boys who liked other boys and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with that and I shouldn’t listen to anyone that told me otherwise, because she was my mother and she would never lie to me.”

            They were quiet for few long moments, each lost in their thoughts.

            “I miss her,” Thorin said, softly.

            Bilbo couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spreading through him; Thorin and Belladonna had hit it off right away and she had come to consider Thorin as much her son as Bilbo was. “I know … I miss her too.”

            Thorin took a breath. “So how did you feel after you two talked?”

            “I didn’t doubt her of course,” Bilbo answered. “And it did make me feel better about myself, that I wasn’t totally strange or odd. And as time went on, I put two and two together and realized more fully what she was talking about.”

            “But …” Thorin stated. “It sounds like there’s more there.”

            Bilbo nodded. “That feeling of being two people, of being trapped inside myself … that didn’t go away. If anything … it got stronger.”

            “Even though Bella said—”

            “It had nothing to do with me liking other boys.”

            “What then?”

            Bilbo took a breath, and sighed. “It was different because … I came to realize, even though I didn’t know the words then, but … I felt like I was … I felt female inside.”

            Thorin just remained silent, his face unreadable.

            “I’m transgender, Thorin.”

            They sat there, both staring at the other. Bilbo could feel apprehension crawling in his gut like insects but he remained still as Thorin clearly processed the revelation.

            “So …” Thorin swallowed and took a breath. “Your wearing ladies nickers … it isn’t some kind of … fetish then? I mean it’s deeper than that, right?”

            Bilbo nodded. “Yes. That’s what I mean.”

            Thorin sat back and a look of slow growing sadness stole over his face. “Does this mean … that our relationship is over?”

 

 

TBC

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rushed this out ... if there are typos, please let me know

* * *

 

            Bilbo didn’t know what to say.

            It was true, when Thorin arrived home, fear that their relationship was going to end was first and foremost on Bilbo’s mind; of course it was. Yet, as they talked, Bilbo relaxed and became less and less worried about having to call Ori or, worse, his father and having to ask for a place to stay for the night.  

            Or two.

            Or the rest of his life.

            So where on earth was Thorin’s thought process taking him, if he was asking if their relationship was over? And Bilbo had to wonder, was it even a question? Was it was closer to a hopeful desire? Was Thorin looking for a way out, a path that took him away from something most didn’t understand or thought freakish? Did Thorin want to end it now rather than later and was merely looking for Bilbo to be the one to state the fact?

            No.

            Bilbo pushed those negative thoughts away immediately. Those were just old doubts coming through in a new way. Bilbo actually felt very calm now. All that he’d feared about for years – how his secret would destroy his life, his relationships with family and friends, with Thorin, all those – seemed so trivial now; now that he knew that he was still loved.

            _Wait a minute._

 _Fear._    

            Of course that’s what it was. Thorin was clearly upset. And as Bilbo just stared at Thorin, he saw that there was so much pain in those blue eyes.

            _You may feel a sense of relief, but Thorin’s fear of an unknown future is just beginning._ “Is that what you want?” Bilbo asked, knowing the answer.

            “No!” Thorin said a little hoarsely. “I just … I don’t …”

            “Sweetheart,” Bilbo said, quickly taking both of Thorin’s hands in his own. “This is all just overwhelming for you.” _Naturally, he’s overwhelmed you idiot,_ Bilbo thought; kicking himself internally. “It came out of the blue and hit you like a ton of bricks.”

            “No,” Thorin insisted, quickly schooling his face into a stoic expression. “I’m fine.”

            _Fibber._ “You aren’t,” Bilbo said. “You can’t be.” _He’s only trying to be brave for me._ “Not this soon.”

            Thorin didn’t change his expression but his fight to keep it was obvious. “No, really. I’m okay.”

            “You know what?” Bilbo had no desire to push. “I think we’ve had enough talk for tonight.” It was probably best to leave it all for now; get back to living their lives and doing what was normal for them, what was comfortable.

            “Are you … are you sure?” Thorin asked.

            Bilbo nodded. “What did you have planned for this evening?” Bilbo knew as few others that when Thorin was upset and feeling vulnerable, it was best he had a task.

            Thorin drew a breath and relaxed a little. “Dwalin wanted me to work on a piece for him.” Dwalin owned and ran a very successful tattoo parlor. Although Dwalin hadn’t had a formal artistic education, even a blind man knew the man was extremely talented. However, while he excelled at Celtic, tribal and geometric designs, when it came to more florid, calligraphic or ornate pieces, he often paid Thorin, who had taken many art classes at university for his Architect Degree, to design them.

            “Good,” Bilbo said; Thorin needed a distraction. “You go do that, and I’m going to clean up.”

            “I’ll clean up,” Thorin said, starting to stand and gather the plates and dishes. “You cooked after all.”

            “I’ll survive,” Bilbo said with a laugh. “Besides, it’s easy busy-work and I’d like to use it to … decompress, so to speak.”

            Thorin seemed reluctant. “It’s not a big deal for me to do the dishes.”

            “If it’s not a big deal,” Bilbo replied. “Then there’s no reason to fret over who does them.”

            Thorin gave in and put all the things he’d gathered down on the table. Bilbo couldn’t resist and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s waist and pulling them into a hug. “We’re okay,” Bilbo said softly, looking up at his love.

            “Are we?” Thorin asked, hopeful and with small smile.

            Bilbo returned that smile with a warm one of his own. “Of course we are. There is no change except you know the truth.”

            Thorin nodded and sighed.

            “We’ll take it one day at a time,” Bilbo stated and Thorin leaned down to plant a kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. “And we’ll deal with revelations as they happen.”

            Thorin drew back slowly. “What do you mean, ‘ _revelations?_ ’”

            Bilbo just cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t really think Otho will keep his mouth shut, do you?”

            Thorin’s expression swiftly changed to anger. “He’d better keep his filthy trap—”

            “Stop,” Bilbo said firmly. “It isn’t worth getting angry over it.”

            “The fuck it isn’t!”

            “It’s far too tasty for them to keep quiet; they’ll spread that around like good marmalade … even with your empty threat.”

            “Who said it was empty?!”

            “I did … you aren’t going to put Otho in the hospital.”

            “Not if I put him in his grave first!”

            “Don’t say that!” Bilbo didn’t want to think of Thorin arrested for his cousin’s murder; not even in jest.

            Thorin growled like a feral wolf. “I swear to God …”

            “We will deal with it,” Bilbo said, looking at Thorin. “Together.”

            To Bilbo’s great relief and happiness, Thorin nodded, leaned down and shared a deep kiss, before whispering against Bilbo’s lips, “Yes. Together.”

            That was good enough for Bilbo.

            With Thorin off to work on Dwalin’s tattoo commission, Bilbo began organizing the leftovers and dirty dishes. But he had a call to make while he worked.

            Picking up his phone, Bilbo dialed a well-used number.

            “Are you all right?!” Ori asked as way of a greeting.

            Bilbo couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m fine.”

            “Define … _‘fine.’_ ”

            “Just that. Thorin and I talked—”

            “And you can stay?”

            “—and he is okay with it. Yes … I’m staying.”

            “Honestly? He’s … okay with it?”

            “Well … yes and no.”

            “He doesn’t want to see anything, right?”

            “We actually didn’t discuss that.”

            “Oh.”

            “What I meant was, he was okay with my … _particulars_ ,” Bilbo giggled; ‘particulars’ was the word Ori and he used for the nickers they bought. “But he was not the least bit happy with Otho telling him.”

            “WHAT?!”

            Bilbo sighed. “Yeah … Otho called him and told him what happened today before I could get it out.”

            “That fucking dick-weasel!”

            Bilbo laughed out loud at that. “Not sure that’s an actual word … but I like it.”

            “Should’ve known he’d pull something like that.”

            “Frankly, how he got Thorin’s mobile number is beyond me.” Remembering Thorin’s reaction, Bilbo made a mental note to call the phone carrier and see about getting Thorin a new phone. “However, it could’ve been worse.”

            “How so you figure that?”

            “He could’ve called Thorin _at work_.” The idea of Thorin screaming obscenities at his uptight cousin Dain’s architectural company was not a pleasant one.

            “He wouldn’t have done that, if I know him.”

            “Don’t tell me you think Otho’s got an actual conscious?”

            “No,” Ori said firmly. “He’d want to maximize the damage to you. That’s why he called in the first place.”

            “That’s basically what Thorin said.”

            “Thorin’s not an idiot.”

            “No. He’s not.” _He’s a beautiful, wonderful, loving man,_ Bilbo thought. “Sadly though, he did threaten Otho.”

            “I hope he gets to make good on that threat!”

            “Ah … no! I don’t him in trouble with the law over this! It’s not worth Thorin ruining his life.”

            “Thorin wouldn’t _really_ do it in the end; you know him.”

            _I do know and I think he would do it!_ “I’m not so sure about that.”

            “Well, at least Otho will keep his mouth shut, if anything.”

            “Guess again.”

            “Even with Thorin threatening him?”

            “Of course. He failed to get the reaction he wanted so ...”

            “You think he wanted to ruin your relationship?”

            “You said it yourself … he wanted to cause me max damage, so I’d think ruining my relationship would be his first goal.”

            Ori didn’t have a reply to that; no need to answer the truth.

            “Besides, even if he had gotten what he wanted, he’d still tell. As I told Thorin it’s too juicy a tidbit to ignore.”

            Ori released a disgusted huff in reply.

            “I’m sure he told Lobelia right off.” Bilbo was positive Otho called Lobelia before the door to _Lady Mary’s_ was even fully closed! “And she’d _never_ keep quiet about it even if Otho did, which again I’m sure he won’t.”

            “They’re both a pair of fucking cock-goblins.”

            Bilbo laughed. “Another new word to add to the Oxford Dictionary!” Ori laughed at that. “And I know Lobelia; at the very least, she’d tell her brother and his wife.” As sure as the sun would rise in the east, he was equally sure Lobelia had already spoken with her brother, Bruno Bracegirdle, and his wife, Dionaea; they were nearly as unpleasant as Otho and Lobelia. “And it will only be a matter of time before Otho tells his mother, Camellia, and that in turn will mean …” Bilbo didn’t want to say it but he knew what was to happen. “… Dad’s going to find out in short order.”

            There was, what Bilbo was sure, horrified silence on the other end of the phone before Ori whispered, “She wouldn’t! Would she?!”

            Bilbo sighed. “I’d love to say no … she and Dad have never been particularly close … but they aren’t the enemies that Otho and I are at this point … I could easily see her telling Dad because she’d feel that as my father, he has the right to know.”

            “You’re not a child! You’re a grown adult!”

            “That won’t matter to her.” Camellia Sackville-Baggins had little regard to a person’s privacy when it came to her righteousness; regardless of the damage such a secret could cause.

            “What are you going to do if she does tell him?” Ori sounded almost afraid.

            “It’s not a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when.’”

            “Oh my God.”

            “Look … I’m just going to take this one day at a time. When she tells him, I will be upfront and honest about it.”

            “What if he doesn’t accept it?”

            Bilbo didn’t have a ready answer to that. He’d thought about what would happen when it all came out. Either his father accepted it and they moved forward, or his father rejected it and Bilbo would … He wasn’t sure he’d be happy with breaking with his father; Bungo was all he had left in the world.   Yet somehow, the idea of going back into hiding seemed suddenly less palatable. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

            “That’s not an answer, you know.”

            “I know, but … I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t accept it, so I’ll have to take it as it comes.”

            There was a long pause, complete silent, on the other end. In fact, Bilbo was just about to ask if Ori was still there when Ori spoke.

            “If you need anything …”

            “I’m okay.” Bilbo was more than touched by Ori’s concern.

            “I know … but still … if you do …”

            “You’ll be the first person I turn to.”

            There was more silence but Bilbo was sure Ori was feeling the same thing; the love and quiet support they had for each other.

            “Why don’t we have lunch tomorrow?” Bilbo thought it would be good; let Ori see him looking happy.

            “Okay,” Ori agreed with a smile in his voice. “But can we make it around one o’clock? I have a meeting to approve the final illustrations.”

            Bilbo and Ori worked for a small publishing house, Rivendell Books. While the company published all kinds of books, their specialty was original and classic children’s stories. Bilbo was a copy editor and Ori was an up and coming illustrator; both had hopes of publishing their own works; Bilbo writing and Ori drawing. One day.

            “That’s fine,” Bilbo agreed. “One o’clock works for me.”

            “Great. Do you have a place in mind?”

            “No … we can decided on the fly tomorrow.”

            “All right.”

            “Ori …” Bilbo started but he didn’t need to finish.

            “You’re welcome. You know if you ever need me …”

            “And the same goes for you.”

            “Good night, Bilbo.”

            “Good night.”

            After that, Bilbo dialed up their carrier and found out, surprise surprise, Thorin was not eligible for an upgrade or new phone yet. In other words, they’d have to pay full price. He contacted the local Apple store, but after describing the damage – well, it was best just to get the new one and be done with it. That was fine, he’d figured as much.

            And he would gladly get Thorin a new one. Yes, Thorin threw it in a fit of anger and yes Thorin should have controlled said anger. But Bilbo felt it was ultimately Otho’s fault for provoking Thorin and when he boiled it all down, as far as he was concerned, Thorin’s anger was just his overprotectiveness of Bilbo; not a good excuse for his anger, but a damn good explanation.

            Bilbo would happily reward Thorin for loving him.

            “SWEETIE?” Bilbo shouted as he put away the last dish.

            “YEAH?!” Thorin yelled from his office upstairs.

            “I’M GOING OUT FOR A BIT! DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?”

            “CRISPS!”

            Bilbo laughed. “IS THAT ALL?!”

            “DIP!”

            Bilbo just shook his head. “WHAT ABOUT DRINKS?!”

            “OH, YEAH! COKE!”

            “RIGHT”

            “WAIT!!”

            Bilbo paused as he was putting on his jacket and heard Thorin come to the top of the stairs.

            “Forget the Crips! Will pick up some take-away?”

            “Take-away?” Bilbo was almost aghast. “We just ate an hour ago?!”

            “I know, but … kind of craving Chinese.”

            Whatever. “Lo-Mein? Or General Tso’s”

            “No, no … just a thing of those steamed pork things.”

            “You mean Pot-stickers?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Right.” Thorin turned around and head back to the office but shouted, “AND COKE!”

            “As if I’d forget that,” Bilbo said under his breath before calling back, “YOU GOT IT!”

            “YOU’RE A DREAM!”

            Bilbo giggled and left. Luckily, there was a descent Chinese take-away right near the phone store, so after exchanging Thorin’s phone pieces for a brand-new phone, he stopped into the Chinese place, ordered two cokes and three orders of Pot-stickers – after all, he kind was craving them now too – and then headed home.

            All done in forty-five minutes.

            Arriving home, they both plowed through the steamed dumplings. Afterwards, Bilbo surprised Thorin with his new phone. Thorin apologized for breaking his old one and felt a little ashamed; he offered to pay Bilbo completely for the phone but Bilbo refused; it was a gift, and as such, Bilbo thought maybe Thorin would think twice about throwing it across the room the next time he was angry. Thorin sheepishly agreed.

            Bilbo gladly let Thorin clean up this time and decided that he wanted to go have a shower; after the day he had, a hot shower sounded like an excellent idea. Walking through their bedroom to the shower, he turned it on and then proceeded to go on through to the private dressing room that Thorin had built for him.

            If there was one place in the whole house that Bilbo loved, it was his dressing room. When Thorin bought the place, it had a nice master bedroom en suite and then two smaller bedrooms with a small bath between them. Well, that wouldn’t do. Bilbo had dreamed of having a dressing room, just like his mother had, and Thorin was not about to deny Bilbo anything.   So, using his expertise, Thorin closed off the second bathroom and one of the smaller bedrooms, making it a guest room / office en suite, then connecting the other small bedroom to the master bathroom. In fact, Thorin expanded the master bathroom to make it roomer. Now, all Bilbo had to do was get up, walk through the larger master bath and into his personal dressing room.

            Heaven.

            Of course, Bilbo never mentioned that a small part of him wanted the dressing room so that he could store and keep secret his ever-expanding collection of knickers and camisoles. Although Thorin had designed and built the custom cabinets, he never went in there after completing it four years ago.

            Stripping down to nothing, Bilbo threw his knickers in the hidden wash hamper and proceeded into the shower. After the day he’d had, the warm water felt like a baptism. It washed more than grime and sweat away. Muscles eased and all the residual soreness due to tension seemed to run off him and down the drain. It was true in a metaphoric way; his secret was no longer a secret, not with Thorin anyway.

            Yes, he knew more was to come, there was no use in pretending he could avoid it, but for now, Bilbo felt light, almost floaty. There was a rather giddy, heady feeling spreading through him.

            Half an hour later, he was sneaky clean and his skin was petal pink from the warmth and washing. He toweled himself off lazily, almost slaughtering into his dressing room. He had a momentary rush of ‘welcome home’ as he looked about. He tossed the towel in the hamper and just looked at himself in the mirror; he was still the same but he was different too. He could wear what he wanted whenever he wanted.

            Before, Bilbo had been very careful about when to wear his knickers. Oddly, it has always been a rather incongruous decision; he wore his best and prettiest things on the most ordinary or humdrum days. As he saw it, when there was a special occasion or Thorin and he were going out for dinner or meeting up with Dwalin and Ori for ‘double dating’, he wore his men’s underwear; those nights always ended up with Thorin a little tipsy and not willing to wait for Bilbo to discreetly undress before pulling him to bed and making love or having hot sex.

            But that was then.

            Bilbo pulled out his most expensive pair of knickers and a matching camisole; pale sage green, made of silk, with a subtle sheen to them. They’d cost a small fortune and he believed they were hand-made but they fit him beautifully. He loved the camisole in particular; he’d always hated bras. He remembered someone once saying that wearing pantyhose made her feel like her ‘pussy was held captive.’ Well, that was exactly what Bilbo thought about bras; he hated feeling confined. Maybe because he had to keep everything hidden and that lent itself to feeling restricted? Maybe. But regardless, camisoles were much nicer, more comfortable in his opinion.

            He stood in front of the mirror and turned just this way and that, admiring his reflection. He was so nice to worry, to not feel fear, to not be afraid if Thorin were to catch him –

            “Is this why I couldn’t come in?”

            Bilbo whirled around and found Thorin leaning in the door way from the bathroom to the dressing room, wearing only a pair of jeans; barefoot and shirtless. So distracting!

            “I mean,” Thorin shrugged a shoulder, a smile playing around one corner of his mouth. “I always wondered if you kept a slave in here or something.”

            Bilbo’s cheeks burned a bit from his blush, but he looked Thorin square in the eye. “One should knock before entering a room.”

            Thorin snorted a laugh. “You were the one who left the door open.”

            Bilbo’s ears turned a little red. “Regardless.”

            “Hey, I just came in to use the loo.”

            “Fibber!” Bilbo said and Thorin smiled at that. “You could have used the toilet in the office bathroom!”

            “Okay,” Thorin said, straightening up and stepping into the dressing room. “I really came to see if I could catch you naked in the shower.”

            Bilbo cocked an eyebrow. “Now that I believe.”

            “I love your body,” Thorin said, glancing around as he walked towards Bilbo. “So sue me.”

            “I ought to spank you!”

            Thorin smirked. “Promise?” Thorin looked at Bilbo’s outfit. “Especially if you’re wearing that.”

            Bilbo just gaped and slapped Thorin in the arm, playfully, but Thorin was quick and snagged Bilbo’s wrist.

            “It’s pretty,” Thorin said, holding Bilbo arm down and reaching out with his free hand glide his fingertips along the edge of Bilbo’s knickers.

            Bilbo stayed still and he could feel himself color again, but not from embarrassment; had Thorin just said he liked his knickers?

            Thorin release Bilbo’s wrist and now wrapped both his arms around Bilbo’s waist, running his hands over and cupping Bilbo’s bum. “I’ve always loved your arse,” Thorin whispered as he pulled Bilbo closer, “but covered in this is actually kind of hot.”

            “It’s, uhm …” Bilbo was getting a little lightheaded. “It’s silk.”

            “Nice.” Thorin began to nuzzle Bilbo neck and continued to run his hands over Bilbo’s arse, kneading here and there and occasionally slipping a finger under the edges of the sage-silk knickers.

            Bilbo responded by wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck and pulling Thorin into a kiss that Thorin quickly deepened.

            But not a few moments later, Thorin trust both hands under the waistband of Bilbo’s knickers and there was the distinct sound of ripping.

            “Thorin!” Bilbo pulled back quickly.   “These are very expensive!”

            “So what?” Thorin growled; there was a bit more ripping.

            “But …”

            “I’ll buy you more,” Thorin said as he nipped Bilbo’s ear and tightened his hold.

            Bilbo clung onto Thorin and once more was kissing him deeply, passionately. He felt Thorin grab the knickers and tear them in two, releasing Bilbo’s now throbbing hard-on.

            Bilbo would gladly let Thorin buy him more knickers.

 

 

TBC

 

 

 


End file.
